


Wrong

by LaKoda0518



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Collaboration, Emotional Porn, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, POV Sherlock Holmes, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaKoda0518/pseuds/LaKoda0518
Summary: Returning from holiday, Sherlock and John have been run ragged with cases. John calls for a romantic night out which quickly turns to a dirty night in.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	Wrong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NitaElwy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NitaElwy/gifts).



> Another collaboration with the amazing NitaElwy! 😍 Her beautiful artwork always seems to inspire me and always gets my creativity going! ❤️ Hope you all enjoy this piece! Special thanks to CarmillaCarmine for looking it over as well! 😘

Sherlock's eyes glossed over as his brain skittered offline. John's hand worked his cock, stroking him at a sensual pace, dragging his foreskin up and over the head of his cock before sliding it back down once again. He knew him so well; it was a curse really. His hand settled on John's shoulder but it lacked the force behind it to push the shorter man to his knees. 

The detective's dominance had been on full display as he'd stalked his lover to the living room. His eyes had blazed with a fire that had sent a visible shiver down John's spine but, somewhere along the way, their sexual roles had switched. John's eagerness had consumed him and, before Sherlock knew it, their clothes were scattered over the floor and John's hands had found his cock. God, those perfectly calloused hands; hands that worked with a doctor's precision and a soldier's authority with every touch. It was enough to drive any man mad, let alone one of the maddest men in London. 

A sharp intake of breath caused Sherlock's chest to clench as filthy thoughts swirled around his mind's eye. He knew what he wanted but John's hands were working his cock so well that he couldn't bring himself to interrupt the sensation. ' _ Who in their right mind would stop an expert at work?'  _ he mused, the thought dragging the corner of his mouth up in a lazy smirk.

"Mmm something funny, love?" John asked, his voice crashing through Sherlock's thoughts, scattering the pieces like broken glass on the floor of his Mind Palace. 

Sherlock glanced at him momentarily, licking his lips as he panted softly. He couldn't hold the other man's gaze for long without betraying his body's deepest desires. "Not at all," he answered, closing his eyes as his knees began to weaken beneath him. He steadied himself by tightening his grip on John's shoulder and taking a shaky breath. 

He knew the gesture would be enough to lure a satisfied smirk to John's features but he didn't care. It had been about a week since they had been intimate with one another and Sherlock was in no position to argue. After their holiday in Greece, they'd returned to a mess of cases with London seemingly falling apart without them. It had been nice to feel needed, and important, but he couldn't deny how badly he had missed his lover's attention. With the work weighing heavily on both of their shoulders, John had suggested a date night, a night out - which had quickly shifted to a filthy night in - with no cases and no interruptions. This meant no calls from Lestrade, no texts from Mycroft, and absolutely no note-taking or experimentations what-so-ever. 

_ 'Dull…'  _ Sherlock had thought at first. They had just been on holiday, teasing and tasting one another well into the early hours of the morning. He couldn't understand how John could possibly believe that they needed yet another night to themselves so soon, but oh how quickly he had been proven wrong as the date approached. Just the thought of getting John alone had been enough to send him out of his mind all day, nevermind actually getting his blogger naked - which hadn't taken very long at all. 

With gentle affection, John's fingertips tapped lightly at his forehead, drawing Sherlock's eyes open and back to the man before him once again as he was met with a hungry grin and fiery blue eyes. "You're disappearing on me again," John growled, leaning forward to nip his ear before nuzzling him.

Sherlock's blissed-out moan laced with a muttered apology must have been enough for John as the shorter man chuckled and pressed their foreheads together. "Come on… I want to see you come for me," he whispered, taking Sherlock's breath away with a desperate longing in his gaze. 

His eyes burned with an intensity the likes of which Sherlock had only ever dreamed of and the submission that bubbled up in the detective's chest nearly paralysed him. His breath hitched again as John's thumb flicked through the leaking precome at his slit and his pace quickened seductively. It was hard to stop the desperate moan that escaped his lips but Sherlock tried rather unsuccessfully. 

As the sound tore from his lips, John's expression never waivered. His steady gaze only intensified, keeping the burning passion alight as he licked his lips. The gesture was enough to send Sherlock's body into a paralytic state, only allowing him enough brain power to moan and gasp beneath his lover's attention.

"That's it… Come… Just like this. Come for me, love," John asked, his voice calm and soothing as he flicked his thumb over Sherlock's slit once more.

The swift motion was enough to shake the detective to his core, sending Sherlock spiraling over the edge, gasping and moaning as he shouted John's name. His fingers dug into the doctor's shoulder with bruising force and he was sure he'd heard John swear with conviction. As the pulsing of his own cock echoed like thunder in his head as it beat in time with his hammering heart, a sudden realisation struck him. Only John Watson could captivate him in such a way. Only John Watson could wrestle control from him and ease him into submission without ever uttering a word. Only John Watson could ever complete him.

The world around him finally drifted back into focus and Sherlock leaned into John for support as his knees buckled once again. "Easy," John whispered, pressing gentle kisses to his jaw as he shifted his weight to hold the taller man properly.

"John," he huffed, the only sound he could muster as his breaths came in laboured gasps before slowly returning to normal. He buried his face in John's shoulder and clung to him with a silent need for affection, stroking his fingers up and down his lover's back. 

As John chuckled softly and shushed him once again, Sherlock felt something in his heart relax and settle into a feeling of contentment unlike any other. Many years ago, if you had asked him if he would have ever considered the love of another to be an important aspect in his life, he would have scoffed. He would have rolled his eyes and called you a fool for believing that a man as great as himself would ever allow himself to fall victim to something as trivial and ridiculous as "true love". 

He had always sneered at love, declaring it a paralytic - a weakness among the stupidest of men. He prided himself on his ability to resist the temptations of the body as well as those of the heart, declaring himself immune to such things from a very young age. That night, however, as he stood chest to chest and heart to heart with John Hamish Watson, he silently admitted to himself that he had never been so glad to be wrong in all his life. 

  
  



End file.
